Just a little blog about me and mine.

I do my best to resist posting photos of my dogs on facebook and my blog every day, but sometimes I can’t help it. Without over-sentimentalizing anything, I think I learn a lot from my dogs–and not just how they force me to learn patience. They show us how to be loving and devoted, and how to be excited by small joys in life. (We’ve also learned how to clean red clay out of everything, how to dispose of dead rats, and how to fit 2 adults and 2-40 pound dogs in a queen size bed.) When we first got both of them they would startle fairly easily, but they’ve become less fearful and more trusting the longer they’ve been with us.

Last night, I looked over at Oliver sitting in one of our chairs and saw this: (we actually see this pose quite often, here’s O’Malley doing it too)

That’s such expectant hope. He knew if he waited long enough someone would come along and rub his belly. He was also prepared–legs up in the air and his big turkey-like chest sticking out–so when someone did notice him and walked by, he’d be ready.

What if we took that own posture? Figuratively of course, although I’ve had days where literally seems like a good idea too. Expecting good things. Being prepared for good things to come our way. Trusting that we are safe. Knowing that we are loved.

Today, October 1st, marks the 1 year anniversary of our dog Oliver coming home to live with us. When O’Malley had been with us a year, last March 1st, I made a little blog post in his honor. So to be fair, I should also commemorate in a small way Oliver’s time with us so far.

Here’s a photo I took of Oliver this morning making himself nice and warm in our bed:

Even though Oliver looks a lot like O’Malley, he has a very different personality, and in the last two months especially we’ve noticed he finally seems at ease and at home with us. Just this week he laid down in PL’s lap in bed, something we don’t think he’s done before. He’s a very timid soul, prone to being a little jumpy with noises or fast movement, but he’s also incredibly sweet. I can’t imagine how either or our dogs ever ended up as strays and can’t imagine them ever being in a place where they weren’t adored since they both want so much attention. Even as we brought Oliver home we weren’t sure if it was a smart decision to get a second dog, but we just went with our gut, so to speak, and got him anyway.

He’s such a great dog-so laid back, so lazy, and so sweet. He has sad eyes, so tends to get whatever he wants. He’s not as quick to learn as O’Malley but he’s also calmer so he doesn’t need to sit or do down quite as well since he’s so mellow. His new favorite thing to to (thanks Keira and Aggie!) is to pull the filling out of his soft toys. He doesn’t eat it at all, just sits there and pulls it out and spits it to the side and goes in for more. He’s also a surprisingly fast runner for a dog that’s so lazy most of the time, and loves to chase and be chased. And while he’s learned he does like to snuggle in bed and lounge on furniture, he’s definitely a country dog–jumping into lakes and rivers with no hesitation. Oliver definitely found a good place in our family, and we tell him all the time that we’re happy we found him.

So in the busy week of snow and work and school, we forgot that on March 1st last year, O’Malley came to live with us.

So one year ago: We wanted a fluffy small dog. We wanted a girl dog. In like 3 months. When we would have time to get a fence. Clearly, things happened a bit differently than that. I think I’ve already posted about PL visiting the shelter just to check out the dogs, seeing a fluffy calm girl dog who wasn’t a girl dog and was only calm from being neutered that day. I was an instant goner as well though.

Here’s O’Malley (with a lot of hair!) making himself at home right after we got him:

I think we’ve done remarkably well as dog parents this year–O’Malley is ridiculously cute and goofy and smart–I mean, the dog’s favorite way to sit is with his legs behind him like a frog. I somehow turned out to be way more of a pushover parent than PL which surprised both of us I think. He’s also hopelessly devoted to PL, which–since she doesn’t really read my blog often–actually makes me smile even though I act like I’m jealous.

Here’s one of my favorite photos of O’Malley having fun on vacation:

Ok, that’s all I’m going to say about O’Malley. He rocks and he makes us happy, but we try not to be those dog people that think their dogs are children–although arguably those people are better off with dogs since dogs don’t usually need as much therapy as any actual children they have would.

Since Thursday I had been hearing it was going to snow in Atlanta on Sunday. PL was heading out of town for a conference in Athens, GA this weekend and asked me to check the weather. I said, “Friday and Saturday will be a lot like today and Sunday it’s going to snow.” She thought I just made that up to see if she was paying attention. I continued to doubt the forecast of snow, especially when it was 62 degrees yesterday. Since I was avoiding a work project, I decided to do our weekly Sunday meal planning and grocery shopping on Saturday, but the chance of snow was the furthest thing from my mind when I made that decision. As proof that procrastination and not fear of snow was my motive, I also organized our messy stack of hand and bath towels and put them into color coordinated neat stacks, made bread, made crock pot soup and cleaned out the refrigerator. Oh, and made a pie for PL’s return.

But sure enough, at a little before 11am as we were wrapping up Sunday school class, we all noticed at the same time it was snowing. After Sunday school we were hanging out in the toddler nursery at church, bathing a stuffed lion named Al, bowling with a beach ball and cooking imaginary food while eating real cheese Chex mix, we decided to bundle up the the kids and take them outside in the snow. I suspect that the 3 grown ups were the ones who really wanted to go out in the snow, but the kids went along with it. After going outside and seeing the snow, the kids exclaimed in unison, “Merry Christmas!”

After a slow but safe drive home, we let our dogs out to play in the snow. Oliver took the pounce and lay on the ground approach and O’Malley decided to eat the snow. This is the most snow I remember in Atlanta, and it snowed in big clumps of flakes until 6pm or so. While living through 3 winters in DC, I started to really hate the snow. It was always pretty coming down but then nothing got canceled and the roads were gross and you had to go out anyway. Since I pretty much have to finish my work project tonight whether work is closed tomorrow or not, it’s less exciting that I might get to stay home tomorrow. In the meantime, it was a fun snow day in Atlanta.

I’ve been working too hard today to read the Times yet, but did see this tibit of information on Nerve.com when I got home. There is, it seems, designer cologne for dogs. It’s called Sexy Beast and it combines essential oils of bergamot, patchouli, mandarin, and nutmeg to create a unisex scent for your stinky pup. The best part? It’s called Sexy Beast.

Unisex cologne for dogs is strange and funny enough I suppose, but in our circle of friends (some Agnes Scott girls plus 2 Georgia Tech geeks), the phrases sexy beast, you’re a beast, and grrrr date back some years. Sole credit for this invention dates back to the Agnes Scott swim team circa 2001 or 2002. They would yell that to each other while swimming for motivation. It soon found new uses and new users. Now the circle is drawn wider yet again with a more literal interpretation and including actual beasts.

I firmly believe that blogging is ultimately an exercise in Solipsism, so what better way to practice this great art than by picking an article about something seemingly newsworthy, and turning it to a post about what I think. Awesome. In the Sports section, of today’s Times is an article about the winner of the Westminster Dog Show.

Dog Shows = Not a Sport.

I started a brief but similar discussion via a recent Facebook status message chain and suggested that spelling bees, golf, chess and bowling are not sports either. Some friends were helpful enough to add that poker and car racing and billards are also not sports. I agree on all counts. Why aren’t these fine activities sports, you might be wondering? I need to develop a set of rules I suppose, except for the fact that I might disqualify things that I actually do think are sports in order to prove my point. So, no rules. They aren’t sports because I said so, that’s why. It also has to do with sweat and effort probably, bowlers sweat because they are wearing polyester, among other reasons, not because bowling is hard (full disclosure: I hate bowling. Mostly because I suck at it. Like really suck.)

I love dogs. Especially spaniels. They are devoted and loving (i.e. clingy) and it’s great. Exactly 50% of my spaniels can give high fives and spin and lays on the ground with frog legs. The other 50% of my spaniels can sit and look at you with sad eyes and a stupid look on his face–and knows that my alarm clock sound means it’s time for him to get in bed and snuggle and get his belly rubbed. I’ve even watched dog shows before (not on ESPN since I’m morally opposed to dog shows on ESPN), and I love that this little winner’s name is Stump. But, the fact remains. Dog Shows = Not a Sport.